


Barely Breathing

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gags, Kink Discovery, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, dance club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>EXO's Chanyeol walks into a club and meets... LEDApple's Kyumin! Chanyeol needs a little help shutting up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely Breathing

The tall stranger has Chanyeol practically eating out of the palm of his hand within the first five minutes. He slides in behind Chanyeol like he's reclaiming his rightful place, drapes his arms over his shoulders and lets their bodies share the same space. The air was stifling before, but Chanyeol feels the hard outline of an erection pressing into his ass and suddenly it's fucking impossible to breathe.

It's been a long time since Chanyeol's been able to call someone tall, let alone have a crick in his neck to underscore it. A lifetime of looking down at his best friends—shorties, all of them, especially Kyungsoo—has left him woefully unprepared to deal with someone who's— _taller than him_? He looks at the narrow, beaked nose, the tiny smile that disappears into the curve of his cheeks and feels like his groin's been hit by lightning when he realizes he's making direct eye contact with him.

He leans in real close to introduce himself, breath hot against Chanyeol's neck. "I'm Kyumin," he says in between songs. "Haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah, I was supposed to meet a friend here—he comes here all the time, you'd probably recognize him. He bailed, but I'd already paid cover so I figured I'd get my money's worth—you come here a lot? The music's great. I'm Chanyeol, by the way—"

Kyumin makes like he's nodding until his mouth is firmly pressed against Chanyeol's. Chanyeol spends twenty seconds trying to figure out what the fuck to do with his hands before Kyumin decides for him. He breaks the kiss to wind Chanyeol's tie around his wrist and yank him, leashed, to the bathrooms.

_Oh,_ Chanyeol thinks. _Oh. I need to come here more often._

Kyumin lets go of Chanyeol's neck long enough to kick open the doors to all the stalls—empty—and lock the door behind them. Chanyeol fills the silence with awkward chatter, voice still raised and hoarse from talking over the club's noise even though the music's dull now, muffled by the heavy wooden door, the cement walls. 

"I really like this song— _oh_ ," he whimpers as Kyumin backs him up against the wall. The tile's cold through his shirt and Kyumin's hand is big enough that when it presses against the taut fabric of his trousers he feels his pulse in his throat. He reaches out, blindly mirroring Kyumin's hands with groping fingers of his own. "God, I'm not—if I'd known I was going to—I mean, I'm assuming we're going to—I mean, I'm—clean, but I don't have any—anything with me."

Kyumin clears his throat. "Do you ever stop talking?" 

Chanyeol's hands go quiet, thumb already through the button hole of Kyumin's jeans. "Oh—I—sorry," he mutters, hot flush creeping up his throat.

"Jesus," Kyumin shakes his head and pulls at Chanyeol's tie hard enough that the stall rattles behind them. "Is the sound of your own voice a turn-on, or—?"

"Yes—No, I mean—I'm just—sorry, I don't do this a lot." Chanyeol's hands are still paused, knuckles grazing the warm skin of Kyumin's belly. Kyumin's whole body is heaving, lungs struggling to catch a breath. He watches Chanyeol for a moment, dark eyes calm, contemplative.

"Door's over there," he says after a moment. "If you want." Chanyeol shakes his head, takes a fresh grip of denim.

"Keep going. Please. I'll shut up."

"I can help with that," Kyumin says. Chanyeol's barely unhinged his knees to sink to the floor when Kyumin's hauling him back up by the tie, wagging his finger in Chanyeol's face like he's a naughty child. "No. This," he says, loosening the tie enough to pull it up Chanyeol's face, knot sitting heavy between his teeth. "Does that hurt?"

Chanyeol shakes his head. " _Nnph_ ," he tries. Kyumin leans in, middle and ring finger pinching with his thumb against the crotch of Chanyeol's pants, thumb teasing heated circles against the tip of his dick with startling accuracy. Chanyeol flinches, overstimulated, pinpricks of arousal and sensitivity skittering across his whole body. His knees nearly buckle out from underneath him and he claws at Kyumin's shoulders, whining: _touch me._

"Shh," Kyumin warns. "Patience. This is the fun part."

He drops to his knees hard enough to bruise, crack of kneecaps ringing out in the empty bathroom. Chanyeol makes a noise of concern but Kyumin ignores it in favor of pinning Chanyeol's hips to the wall. The grout is scratchy, digs into the skin at the small of his back, the top of his ass. It's cold, too—he shivers, tries to push forward and away but Kyumin's hands anchor him there, gripped around his hips like handles. 

Thing is, it's a nice tie—silk, one his sister bought for him for his birthday, wasn't meant to be a spit rag, wasn't meant to be an impromptu toy on a night out. He'd have worn a crappier tie if he'd known—but he'd know better next time, he thinks. Does saliva wash out? Do dry cleaners ask questions if you come in with a spit-stained tie?

"Stop thinking so much," Kyumin mutters, almost too quietly for Chanyeol to hear. Chanyeol snaps back to attention, shudders at the warmth of Kyumin's lips as he mouths at Chanyeol's dick, lets his tongue trace the length of the shaft but never quite gives him enough friction to thrust into. 

"Come on," Chanyeol tries. He knows it comes out a garbled mess, knows he's starting to drool down the sides of his mouth and it's fucking gross but Kyumin just wraps a fist around Chanyeol's dick and licks it like he's eating an ice cream cone or something. Chanyeol moans, muscles turning to jelly, fingers winding through Kyumin's hair in a desperate attempt to keep from folding in half. 

Kyumin's finally, _finally_ put his mouth on Chanyeol's dick instead of being a fucking tease, long fingers tracing up the smooth, pale skin of his inner thighs, nose crammed into the dark curls of Chanyeol's pubic hair, when the door rattles loudly. "Hurry up, I've got to take a fucking leak—" 

Kyumin pulls back, spit trailing from his lips back to Chanyeol's dick. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. "Fuck off!"

Chanyeol tries to laugh. The tie restricts the motion and he gags a little for the first time as the laughter gets stuck under his tongue. Kyumin's up in a flash, pulling the tie back down around Chanyeol's neck.

"You okay?" His soft voice quavers a little but his hands are reassuring and warm around the base of Chanyeol's skull. He nods, closes his eyes and pushes his hips forward. Kyumin barely gets a rhythm going with a loose fist before Chanyeol's groaning into his shoulder. He sees the come dribbling between Kyumin's fingers and onto the floor when he cracks an eye open, blissed out, body too relaxed to stay upright without help. Kyumin straddles Chanyeol's thigh, grinds himself to release with his wrists locked around Chanyeol's waist. It's not until he's pulling back, panting and glistening with sweat, that Chanyeol realizes he'd used the back of Chanyeol's shirt to clean his hands.

"Fuck—there's a _sink_ —"

The rattling's back, and someone else is pounding on the door. "Open up—I'll get the fucking manager if you don't, this is _ridiculous_ —"

Kyumin giggles, pushes the sweaty blond hair from his eyes. "Guess we should go."

"Yeah—guess so," Chanyeol mutters, craning his neck to look at himself in the mirror. His shirt's a mess—probably a lost cause. Still, it's been a long time since he's gotten off at all. The warm glow that settles under his skin—that's got to be worth the price of dry cleaning. "I'll—see you around?"

"Yeah, sure," Kyumin says noncommittally, but his eyes are twinkling when he reaches forward to fix Chanyeol's mess of a tie. "Maybe next time we won't need this."


End file.
